by Larry Bond
“This is Major Christian. We’re near Pho Lu. What’s their ETA?”
Zeus watched out of the corner of his eye as Christian listened to the CIA officer in Thailand. The dashboard’s glow made his look even more sinister than normal.
“Why? What’s going on?” asked Christian.
Zeus pushed upright in the seat.
“We can’t wait here all night,” said Christian.
“What’s going on?” asked Zeus.
“They don’t have the bikes. They’re walking.”
“Walking? What is that, fifty klicks away?”
“As the crow flies, maybe.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“I can handle this.” Christian put up his hand, warding him off. “Tell them we can only wait until dawn. After that—”
“What do you mean, we’re only waiting until dawn? Where the hell are they?” Zeus reached for the phone.
“I have this, Major,” said Christian.
“Get directions for where they are. Get coordinates.”
“I have this.”
“Get coordinates.”
“Yes, we want coordinates,” Christian told the CIA officer in Bangkok. “We’re not waiting around here all night.”
Christian entered the coordinates into his device, made sure he had the frequency for the SEAL team, then signed off.
“You don’t really think we should go there, do you?” he said to Zeus.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Perry’s going to be pissed.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Going home and having a beer,” said Christian, pulling his rifle up from the floor of the cab. “We have to take a right about three kilometers down the road.”
~ * ~
28
Northern Vietnam
The helicopter had burrowed into the hillside as it crashed. It was unlikely anyone aboard had survived, but to be sure, someone had to get close and check. Jing Yo had seen so much death over the past few days that he would gladly have passed the duty to someone else, but in the end it was he who climbed over the tangled wreckage to see.
The pilot and copilot were strapped in their seats, compressed in the metal wreckage. The rear compartment was so charred and battered it was impossible to see inside.
The rain continued to pour. Jing Yo tried to pry the cockpit door open with his rifle, but it was so mangled that it wouldn’t budge. The dead men’s removal would have to wait until the rain ended and help arrived.
“I hope this bastard is worth it,” said Sergeant Wu when Jing Yo walked back to him.
Unlike its companion, the second chopper had suffered only a few bullet holes in the undercarriage. The pilot and his crew huddled inside out of the rain, waiting in a field about 150 meters from their fallen comrades to hear what Jing Yo wanted to do next.
Back in the belly of the chopper, Jing Yo took out his area map, trying to guess where the Americans would go. They had only two choices—to go back east or south. South would take them into the heart of the Chinese army advance. By contrast, the east, while a much harder trek because of the terrain and vegetation, was wide open.
The rain would slow his enemy down, but still, Jing Yo needed help.
Colonel Sun took the request calmly.
“Lao Cai is being attacked as we speak,” the colonel told him. “The troops there will come south along Route 70. I will see what can be spared. Pursue the Americans as tightly as possible.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Do not fail me, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
~ * ~
The SEALs formed a cocoon around Josh, Mara, and Mạ as they walked. They’d brought extra rain gear, though by now keeping dry was a fantasy. Josh wrapped Mạ in one of the ponchos, fixing the hood so the girl could see out as he carried her. She was heavy—beyond heavy—but she seemed to want only him to carry her. It made him feel proud, in a way, chosen, though part of him would have been just as happy to give up the honor.
He was dead on his feet. He’d sleep for weeks when he got back.
After telling the world what was going on.
Mara trudged a few steps ahead. He was sure she was just as tired as he was. Her reaction to Kerfer irked him; the Navy lieutenant was a hot dog and an asshole, but women seemed to be attracted to that, even smart women who knew better, like Mara. He imagined that she did know better, from personal experience, but still found his charm irresistible.
He no longer thought she was gay. The way she’d reacted to Kerfer ruled that out.
She wasn’t as plain as he’d thought either.
~ * ~
Mara kept wiping her eyes, trying to keep them clear. Even so, her vision was so blurred from the rain that she practically ran into Kerfer when he stopped short on the road to talk to someone on his satcom radio.
“Hey, your boss is looking for you,” he said, handing her the unit. About the size of a sat phone, it was more powerful and could use an array of different encryptions.
“This is Mara.”
“Hey, beautiful, how are the SEALs treating you?” asked DeBiase.
“Like a million dollars.”
“Ha-ha. Listen, we have the van coming to meet you. You have to get down to the road that runs along Ngòi Bo. That’s a creek. I just told Kerfer about it and he claims to know where it is.”
“If he says he does, he probably does.”
“Yeah, emphasis on the word ‘probably.’ Watch him, Mara. He’s slick.”
“As slick as you?”
“I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’ll never respect you in the morning.”
“No chance of that,” she said. Mara flushed a little. There was no chance of that, now or at any point in the future.
Though he was attractive in a SEAL sort of way.
Josh was attractive, too. But that wasn’t happening either.
“It’s going to take them an hour to get close,” continued DeBiase. “So keep walking. This rain is so heavy, none of the UAVs are getting any intelligence. They’re up. As soon as the clouds clear they’ll see.”
“How long is it going to rain?”
“Half hour, another hour. Probably stop just when the truck meets you.”
“Figures,” she told him before handing the radio back to Kerfer.
~ * ~
29
Northern Vietnam
Zeus stopped at the edge of the bridge. The van’s headlights showed a steady stream of reflections ahead—the stream had overrun the road.
“How deep you think it is?” he asked Christian.
“Not very.”
“I don’t see a rail.”
“Are you kidding?” answered Christian. “The Vietnamese don’t put guardrails on their roads. They don’t even pave half of them.”
“Go wade out and see how deep it is.”
“Why?”
“Because it looks like we’re going to get washed away.”
Christian grabbed the door handle, pulling it sharply and snapping the door open so hard it flew back and hit his leg. He cursed, then stepped out into the rain. Zeus watched as he walked ahead of the van into the water.
He was right. It barely came to his ankles. Zeus started ahead.
“Satisfied?” said Christian, pulling himself inside as Zeus reached him.
“I just wanted to see you wet.”
No sooner had Zeus said that than the water seemed to pick the van up. It moved sideways, drifting with the swollen creek before the wheels caught again at the side of the overpass. Slipping on an angle, nose pointing nearly thirty degrees away from the road, the van lurched and skidded forward, out of the rain.
“So maybe I didn’t walk out far enough,” said Christian when they reached the other side. “Sue me.”
The rain began to slow as Zeus continued passing down the mountain. They slipped across 151, then headed toward the unnumbered road that followed Ngòi Bo, a narrow river that cut acro
ss the province’s central plain. They passed through two villages. Neither had any lights on, and it was impossible to tell if there were even people in the houses or not.
“We turn left at that intersection,” said Christian as the road appeared on the left. “We’re halfway there.”
As Zeus started to slow down, he spotted a canvas-topped jeep on the other side of the highway. Two soldiers in rain gear were standing near it, guns under their plastic ponchos.
“Poor slobs,” muttered Christian.
One of the men put his hand up, signaling that they should stop. Zeus started to pump the brakes, but as soon as his foot touched the pedal the rear end of the van began to skid to the right. He backed off the brake and started to steer into the skid, but the angle increased.
“Shit!” he yelled, yanking at the wheel desperately. The van pulled back suddenly, weaving the other way.
One of the soldiers leveled his gun. Zeus tried correcting but the van whipped out of his control. The man fired, riddling the back of the truck with bullets. Then he tried jumping out of the way, but he was too late; the rear end of the truck whipped into him, pinning him against the front of the other vehicle. As they rebounded off, Zeus got the van facing back in the right direction on the road. As he started to jump out to see if the man was all right, bullets crashed through the windshield. He leapt onto the ground, rolling on the wet pavement.
“Don’t shoot us. We’re American!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet. He ran around the side of the van, unholstering his gun. “Stop!” he yelled, turning the corner.
The soldier he’d hit lay crumpled at the foot of the damaged truck. The gunfire was coming from the rear of the truck.
“Zeus!” yelled Christian from inside the van.
“Stay down!”
“No shit—I’m coming out your side. I’ll cover you from the front.”
“Come on then.”
The soldier who was firing at them sent another burst into their windshield, taking out the rest of the glass. Zeus fired a warning shot, then yelled again.
“Stop!” he shouted.
The soldier came around the front of the truck, leveling his rifle at Zeus. Something automatic took over. Zeus squeezed off two shots, striking the man in the head. The soldier stood dead still for a moment, then teetered backward, falling back behind the truck.
Zeus ran to the first man, who’d been hit by the truck. He was still breathing.
“I’m sorry,” Zeus told him.
He pulled at the raincoat, which was bunched up around his neck, trying to make him more comfortable. As the top fell open, he saw the man was wearing a uniform different from the ones the soldiers in Hanoi had been wearing.
Very different. It was Chinese.
So was the truck.
“What’s going on?” asked Christian, running over.
“These guys are Chinese,” said Zeus. “They must be scouting.”
“This is a troop truck. Where are the rest of them?”
“They must be along the road somewhere.”
“We’d better disable the truck,” said Christian. “Then get the hell out of here.”
He started to pull the hood open. Zeus stopped him.
“Let’s take it.”
“We have the van.”
“The van is beat to crap. This is better. It’s bigger, and probably has six-wheel drive. We can get through the rain a hell of a lot easier.”
“I don’t know.” Christian looked at it doubtfully. “It’s Chinese.”
“So is half the stuff you buy in America.”
Zeus pulled open the door. The cab of the truck, a two-year-old six-by-six Dongfeng transport, was almost identical to those of the German NATO trucks Zeus had been in. It had a diesel engine mounted under the cab, with a five-speed transmission.
He pushed the Start button. It rumbled to life.
“Coming?” he yelled, rolling down the window.
“Go!” yelled Christian, jumping onto the side of the cab. There was no running board; he gripped the rail with his right hand and pushed his legs against the door, hanging off as if he were a monkey.
A bullet slammed into the top of the cab. Zeus struggled to get the truck into reverse. They lurched backward, then stalled.
“Shit!” yelled Christian, raising his rifle and returning fire over the top of the cab.
Zeus hit the starter and the truck grumbled back to life. He overrevved it, spinning and kicking mud as he backed up toward the road. He threw the clutch in, jerked the tranny into first, then overrevved it again. The truck lurched and moved forward very s-l-o-w-l-y.
Low gear was very, very low.
“Get us the hell out of here!” screamed Christian, ducking as fresh bullets hit the vehicle, spitting through the canvas back.
Zeus slammed the shifter into second and then third, grinding the gears. As the truck gained speed, he hit the corner of the van and pushed it out of the way. He continued up the hill, building speed.
“Go! Go! Go!” yelled Christian.
“You think you can do better, come inside and try,” muttered Zeus.
Two Chinese soldiers stood at the side of the road, not sure what was going on. Zeus popped on the headlights and saw them. Stepping on the gas, he swerved to the side as he passed, knocking one over and sending the other running for cover.
He strained so hard to see if he’d gotten him that he nearly ran off the road.
“You’re going to get us killed,” hissed Christian, still hanging on outside.
“Stop whining.”
“Stop so I can get in.”
“Not until we put some distance between them and us.”
“One of these days, Murphy, you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”
“I already have.”
Zeus stopped a half mile down the road. Christian climbed in the cab.
“I know what they’re doing,” Zeus told him. “We blocked them off, so now their flank is vulnerable. They have to come down Route 70, shut off all the little routes west. Their flank is even weaker than I thought. They’re adapting.”
“Wonderful. Can we get the hell out of here?”
Zeus started moving again, this time beginning in second gear rather than first. It didn’t seem to mind.
“The satellites and UAVs probably haven’t seen the advance because of all this rain,” said Zeus. “Call Perry and tell him what’s going on. The Vietnamese may want to pick off some of these units. They should get them now, while they’re still weak.”
“Are you out of your mind? The first thing he’ll do when I tell him that is ask how I know. We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”
“Call him.”
“No f’in’ way. You call him.”
“Give me the satcom.”
Christian held it out to him. He started to take it, but Christian pulled it back.
“I’ll talk to him. You’re a pain in the ass, Zeus. You’ve always been a pain in the ass.”
Perry took the news calmly—or at least didn’t raise his voice loud enough for Zeus to hear as Christian explained what was going on.
“We’re less than a half hour from the pickup, General. Then we’re on our way back,” he said. “Piece of cake…birthday cake…Yes, sir…Oh, yes, sir.... I will.... No, sir. Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely not what?” Zeus asked when the radio call was over.
“I told him it was a piece of cake.”
“And?”
“He said don’t let the Chinese blow the candles out.”
~ * ~
30
Northern Vietnam
Mara was the first to hear the helicopter, and began shunting the others to the side of the road before its search beam came into view. The light seemed to cut physically into the rain, pushing it aside with a burst of steam that fell back as it flew. The chopper passed over the road very slowly, only a few feet over the treetops, moving so slowly an octogenarian could have kept up.
>
“I got it,” said one of the SEALs, loading up the grenade launcher on his gun as they crouched a few feet from the roadway.